One Dance with a Duke (Stud Club #1)(100)

Spencer caught Bellamy’s gaze. “That’s why neither of us had any luck finding her ourselves.”

“What do you mean, ‘neither of us’?”

“Later.” He most definitely was not discussing his day of searching Whitechapel taverns and brothels in front of Claudia. “But at least we know this. Whoever killed Leo, they weren’t after his token. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have ended in the hands of a passerby.” He turned to Jack. “But you did find her?”

“Eventually, yes.” He gave Spencer a look. “Thought it might help.”

Interesting. So now Jack wanted to help him? Spencer had no doubt what sort of help Jack would ask in return.

“And then you just left her again?” Bellamy speared both hands through his unkempt hair in exasperation. “Where is she now?”

“Relaxing in finer accommodations than she’s ever enjoyed in her life,” Jack answered. “Don’t worry, she’s not going anywhere. Someone’s watching her.”

“Did she have any further information? Did she see his attackers?”

“Only glimpses, in retreat. Her descriptions of them are vague at best. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in coarse attire. She couldn’t describe them with any helpful detail. What was interesting”—he raised an eyebrow in a theatrical pause—“was her description of Leo’s companion.”

Silence.

“What?” Bellamy finally managed. “But … but he was alone that night.”

“No, he wasn’t. There was another man with Leo when he was attacked. The harlot remembered his features quite well—hair, height, clothes, looks.” He turned a steely gaze on Bellamy. “From her description, the man looked a great deal like you.”

Chapter Twenty

Julian Bellamy’s face went pale with shock. “He looked like me?”

Oh, Spencer was going to enjoy this. Not only was he cleared of all suspicion, but now he could repay Bellamy the favor. “Well, well. This is an interesting development.”

“I was not with Leo that night,” Bellamy said. “I wish to hell I had been, but I wasn’t.”

“Then it’s curious, isn’t it, that Leo was seen with a man who matched your description?”

“I set the trends for fashion. Men try to match my description. Every brainless toff in London wants to resemble me.” He gestured toward Jack. “He’s one of them, for the love of God. Why would you take his word, anyway?”

Spencer picked up the token from the table. “Perhaps because the brainless toff was able to locate in a matter of days the person you’ve been seeking for nearly a month? The fact that he found Leo’s token proves he’s not fabricating the tale. And it would certainly explain a great deal, if you were involved. Like why Leo’s body was delivered to your house that night. Why your vast investigation has gone nowhere. And why you’ve been so eager to pin the blame on me.”

“I wasn’t with Leo,” Bellamy said edgily. “I have an alibi.”

“Ah, yes.” Spencer narrowed his eyes. “What was her name again? Lady Carnelia? I don’t suppose she’d rush to confirm your story. What makes you think a married noblewoman would invite public scandal just to save your miserable hide?”

Bellamy shot a look at Lily, as though hoping she hadn’t understood Spencer’s remark.

Lily bowed her dark head quickly and pushed back from the table. “Lady Claudia,” she said, extending a hand, “would you kindly show me the way to our chamber? Silly me, I’ve forgotten.”

Reluctance was plain on Claudia’s face, but Lily clutched the girl by the wrist and fairly dragged her from the room. In unison, the men rose from their chairs. Because, naturally, that was the polite thing to do when driving two innocent ladies from the dining room with talk of murder and whores.

Amelia remained seated, looking stunned and pale.

“Well?” Spencer said. He didn’t truly believe the man had killed Leo. He’d witnessed Bellamy’s shock that night, and he could see plainly the toll recent weeks had taken on him. Even Julian Bellamy wasn’t a gifted enough performer to pull off the role of grief-stricken friend so convincingly. Whether Leo had been alone or with a friend, the simplest explanation for his death was still the most likely—he’d been the unlucky victim of random thievery. But let Bellamy know, for a moment, just how it felt to live under unfounded suspicions of murder. Let him watch the woman he cared for scurry from the room.

“We’re going to discuss this alone, Morland,” Bellamy said. “In your library.”

“Ashworth comes, too,” Spencer said. “And we’re going to do more than discuss the matter.” He tossed the disc of brass in his hand. He hadn’t planned to do this so soon, but this was the perfect opportunity—when emotions and enmity were running high. “We’re going to sit down to cards. It’s time to disband the Stud Club once and for all.”

“Fine by me,” Ashworth said.

Spencer turned to Bellamy and stared him down, filling his gaze with unspoken challenge. This was the moment. Unless the lying bastard balked, victory would be his, tonight.

“All right.” Hatred was keen in Bellamy’s eyes. “Let’s end it. And then you’ll tell me where this bit of skirt’s being put up, and I head back to London in the morning. I need to question this woman as soon as possible.”